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But his words are buzzing around inside my head, niggling at me until even I can’t deny that despite my best intentions, and her not knowing it yet, I have hurt Sloane. I hurt her every day when I keep the truth from her. And tonight, I let it steal the light from her eyes to protect the future I’m trying to build on an unearthed past.
Nausea turns my stomach and my lungs constrict, every revelation is another pound added to the millstone around my neck. The one I thought I’d put down when I finally claimed my angel.
“I know that look.” He says, twisting the top off and pouring himself a drink. I watch him toss it back, too stunned by my realizations to wonder how he has alcohol here. He puts the top back on and grabs the bottle by the neck. “It’s the same one your mama used to get when she realized she was wrong about something.”
I stand. “I’m leaving, Pop.”
“Fine, but don’t go before you tell me what finally made realize you ain’t as perfect as you made yourself out to be.” He crosses his arms and studies me. The look in his eye makes me feel like a five-year-old boy cowering on the floor beside his mother while she begs to take the blows meant for him. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s got something to do with a woman. Now I know you ain’t a cheater because you made a whole speech about how you would never do a thing like that when you were about ten, so it’s probably something small. Got in a fight with her and made her cry? Made some promises you couldn’t keep? Come on now, boy.”
My stomach churns harder with every word he speaks. It doesn’t even surprise me that he’s managed to hit the nail on the head once again. After all, monsters recognize monsters.
“I’m not telling you a damn thing.” I breathe through clenched teeth. “I said I’m leaving.”
“Guess you can’t stand to be in the same room with me when I’m speaking the truth, huh?”
He shuffles towards me and presses the bottle into my hand with a sickening smile stretched across his face. I stare down at it absently, holding it closer when I should be pushing it away. The glass is cool against my skin, a welcome respite from the self-loathing burning me up from the inside out. The bottle is smooth and narrow with clear liquid swishing around inside. Vodka. His preferred weapon of mass destruction, and now he’s giving it to me like some rite of passage.
Give it back, Dom.
My fingers close around the neck. “Are you even allowed to have alcohol here?”
“I’m a dying man. No one gives a damn if the alcohol takes me before the cancer gets a chance. Take it, son. You look like you’re gonna need it.”
He steps back and looks at me, still holding the bottle of poison even though he’s no longer making me, and those wolfish eyes flicker with the satisfaction of finally catching its prey after a lifetime of giving chase.
* * *
Early morning sunlight filters through the bottle of vodka, shooting shards of light throughout my living room. The sun is high in the sky, bathing the loft in multiple hues of gold that make me think of Sloane’s eyes. It’s been over twelve hours since I’ve seen her and held her in my arms. When I left my dad’s last night, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to her place. I didn’t want to face her with his words swirling around in my head and the bottle of poison he gave me clutched in my hand.
So I came back here and tried to replace his vitriol with facts and common sense, which felt damn near impossible with the things I realized about myself at the forefront of my mind. I’ve never been dramatic enough to think Gabriel Alexander was out to destroy me. Never painted the dysfunction and violence I lived through as a child as some intentional, meticulous plan for the person I was supposed to admire the most to tear me apart piece by piece so he could rebuild me in his likeness.
But after spending the night reliving the moment he pressed the bottle into my hand, I think I might have to reconsider.
I push a breath out through my nose and roll off of the sofa, leaving the bottle on the coffee table, so I can get ready for work. Going through my morning routine without Sloane by my side is weird, and it just drives home the knowledge that I have to come clean with her about everything. There can’t be any more lies of omission or evaded questions. I can’t claim to want a future with her and keep the information that changes everything a secret.
And she’s not the only person I owe an explanation to.
As much as I hate the way she acted the last time we spoke, I have to reach out to Kristen and do my best to explain why our relationship was always going to fail without breaking the promise I made to Sloane to keep our arrangement under wraps.
It’s the least I can do after all the years I spent wishing I could love her enough to make the pain of watching Sloane with Eric fade into the background, so I pull out my phone and send her a text.
Dominic: I need to talk to you. Can you meet me for coffee around 12?
She responds almost immediately.
Kristen: Yes! Come to the cafe by the courthouse.
A few hours later, I’m sitting at the only free table in the coffee shop across from the New Haven Courthouse, waiting for Kristen to show. From her message, I thought she was excited about meeting up, but I’ve been here for fifteen minutes and still haven’t seen her. I take a sip of my coffee and decide to check my email. There’s a message from Alex that he’s marked urgent, which can only mean it’s about the project I’ve been working on for weeks without anyone, but especially not Sloane, knowing.
Underneath that is a progress report on the La Grande Nuit renovation from Andre to me, Sloane, and James. My heart does a free fall into my stomach as I open it. We’ve been ahead of schedule this entire time, but according to Andre’s message, we’re on track to finish the renovation next week.
Fuck.
James has already responded to the thread thanking everyone for their hard work and requesting a meeting with me and Sloane this afternoon. I type out a short response, confirming I’ll be there, and then pocket my phone. When I look up, Kristen is floating through the cafe with her eyes on me. She’s smiling brightly, and it’s kind of weird to see her so happy, especially given the way we left things, but I don’t question it.
“Nic!” She takes a seat across from me. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too, Kris.”
